First Forays into Training

Watson

When Holmes asked me to work out positions, I didn't think it would be all that difficult. We'd do a few days of basic try-out practises, nothing to strenuous. By then I'd have a basic idea of everybody's strengths, and could start putting people in, switching them around, until I'd figured out where I wanted people.

What I didn't count on was 50 of the team either didn't know the rules, or was completely hopeless.

When I walked onto the field, I was happy to see that they were all at least dressed for a practise. Well, most were. A few of the inspectors were wearing very nice shirts, which I felt certain would soon be destroyed beyond repair.

"Alright Watson," said Holmes, with an encouraging smile, "What shall we do first?"

"Um… We'll all jog a lap to warm up, and then do some stretches."

"You heard him," barked Holmes, "let's get going."

"Go easy on the first lap. We don't want any pulled muscles!" I said quickly, as they started off.

The first lap is usually what separates the packs from the backs, and the smart from the stupid. Those who are smart will pick an easy pace and stick with it for the whole time. The stupid will start out fast, and then get slower and slower until they have exhausted themselves.

Already I was seeing some separations. Holmes was fast, and would do well as a winger alongside Staunton. Sir Henry was sturdily built, a fair runner, and had played football in Canada, so he had some ball handling skill, and was a shoe-in for Number 8.

And if Irene proved herself able to hack it, and if she was a decent kicker, she would be a perfect candidate for fly half. 'Women,' I reflected, 'are much better at keeping their heads under pressure.' My only concern about the idea was how the backs would react to taking orders from a woman…

Sam Wiggins, small but aggressive, was perfect for scrum half. Bradstreet, tall and stocky, and Hopkins would be good locks, with training…

The majority of the "team" had now finished their lap and were looking at me expectantly. It had been ages since I'd done warm-ups, and so I turned them over to Staunton, who led us through a systematic series of stretches and then set up a four corners drill. As the others ran it I called him over and asked him what he thought of them all.

"Well, Doctor, you have some raw talent here," said he. "But they're going to need practise."

At that precise moment, Gregson smashed into Irene, dropping his ball in the process. She shot him a dirty look as she completed her pass, which was direct and precise.

"Lots of practise."


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